


A Second of Stolen Time

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 11:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19811677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Sometimes, Gladio just couldn't wait.





	A Second of Stolen Time

“No, we can’t. Not here.”

It was something that he had heard far too often growing up. 

It was something muttered in the empty halls of the Citadel, a second before the echo of shoes and boots resounded around them and put the cold, calculated distance between them again. 

“Someone’ll see,” he once muttered back, though it pained him to do so. It was another familiar phrase, when their eyes glanced up to the gallery of the training rooms, to the doors left ajar to anyone who passed in the hallways outside or stepped in to see if they had finished. 

Gladio was sick of hearing it. 

Ignis, he knew, was sick of hearing it. 

But they had to protect Noctis. 

Growing up in the Citadel, in the shadow of the Council life that had been laid out for them, there had been little leeway for personal pursuits. Gladio had always understand what he would do, where he would be, what he needed to master if he was to succeed as a Shield to the future King of Lucis. And controlling himself had always been the biggest challenge. 

He had wanted things for himself. He had wanted and taken and settled for the satisfaction that came with the absolute knowledge of his place in the world. 

“Gladio,” Ignis had been introduced to the world of the Citadel late. He had come in with an understanding of what the views were outside of the ancient towers that protected the young prince. He came in with the uncertainty that Gladio had never mastered. “Not here.”

A Shield was not meant to be subtle. He was not built for it. “Then where?”

There was no sneaking around in the Citadel itself. There was no way to keep to the shadows or slip through the halls unnoticed without the royal powers offering an advantage over the watchful guards. There was no slipping out— as they had in their foolhardy youth— to the gardens or the Skywalk, or the other corners closed off after public hours had ended. Ignis had suggested the Halls of History, but the disapproving eyes on long dead Kings and Queens had Gladio rethinking this whole plan. The kitchen were bustling, no matter the hour. The training rooms open and unbarred, though the locker rooms were a possibility (though Ignis would only agree to the showers, if absolutely necessary). 

“It’s getting hard to think up places to steal that kiss, Specs.”

“Don’t blame me for your lack of imagination,” Ignis muttered, eyes down at the tablet he carried through the empty halls. “I have a meeting to attend.”

Gladio liked these sorts of stories in theory. He liked the subtle romance in his books— the scandal kept at arm’s length between stolen kisses and trysts in the dead of night. He liked the stories of lost lovers driven apart by duty and the terrors that came when one declared themselves far too hastily for the other. He liked to read about the drama and the daring. 

It was another thing to live it. 

But he was a Royal Shield sworn to the Crown Prince of Lucis, and he wanted some reassurance from his lover that they had a chance between the meetings and the training sessions and the courtly appearances. 

He stopped them in the hallway— the echo of steps approaching them as Gladio stole his kiss. It was fast, and soft, and he meant it more as a promise than a declaration. “Dinner tonight, your place.”

And they were apart again, the stolen moment between them as Ignis nodded his agreement to the plan as members of the Royal Council approached.


End file.
